New Year, Back to Blogging!

As you can see, it's been a silent 3+ months around Student: Revisited! Of course, I've been extremely busy--so much so that I decided to NOT worry about blogging for a bit.

Besides, I was head deep in teaching freshmen composition for the first time.

You would've been bored out of your mind (as opposed to before?) listening to me chat about teaching. Probably. As far as all of "my student" talk is concerned, I was just as bad (probably worse) as Kathie Lee Gifford talking about Cody on Live! with Regis & Kathie Lee...

(If you're too young to know who/what I am talking about, don't tell me)

As far as my student life is concerned, I've been submitting my tiny collection of fiction (here is a picture sample for you to look at):

Still no publications, but I'm okay with that...for now. I need to write more and I know it. My "thesis" is so bare bones right now, you'd want to take it out back and put it out of its misery.

Probably. And since this semester has MORE teaching (my favorite thing BY FAR of my MFA career), I'll be super busy again.

Although I will be checking in on a regular basis to talk about my student life. This semester I get to chose my "own text" for my Fiction Seminar. I have to pick "either a contemporary short story collection or a contemporary novel."

It doesn't HAVE to be new-to-me and so I'm somewhat flummoxed because I will be writing a series of annotations all semester long AND as my professor warned: "Be prepared to know this work inside out...You will own it and it will own you."

ACK! I have two ideas...

(1) Little Children by Tom Perrotta

(2) Georgia Under Water by Heather Sellers

(1) is a novel and my favorite "contemporary" work to come out (that I've read) in the last several years. I also got to hear Tom speak in September--which also means I met him briefly and have a cherished autographed copy of said book! Thematically speaking, this work is similar to my thesis (in my opinion).

(2) is the first short story collection that I read that made me say, "HEY! I WANNA DO THAT!" I haven't read it in YEARS, but I found my copy and since my thesis is to be a collection of related short stories, this would be a smart choice.

WHAT TO DO? I will let you know soon. In the meantime, I'm glad to be back!

~~J

Did You Say Something?

Because I really can't hear you for all the work.

I love the work, let's just make that part clear...but there is a lot of it. A LOT. A full on gaggle of work (which is equal to at least five geese not in flight). What?

A full grown Canada Goose can weigh up to 24lbs. 24 x 5 = about 120 pounds of Geese, or work (to complete my metaphor)

I may be losing my mind. But if I know I "may" be losing my mind, if I have some sort of realization than am I "really" losing anything at all?

poorly PICTURED (because I can't find the battery charger for my nifty point-and-shoot camera) here:

(top to bottom)

Black binder (class I'm teaching)

Pink binder (class I'm taking)

Two (not required) books (helping me teach)

ReMix: the required reader (class I'm teaching)

the Pink Legal pad contains notes I'm taking while grading the first formal assignment my class has written...it's sitting on top of the aforementioned stack of essays I'm too afraid to actually write on yet (hence taking notes on the Pink Legal pad)...

Then there are two (required) books for the class I'm taking...I have read one and am finishing the other (not pictured is the required textbook for the same class)...

Hidden below that is a mini grade book (for the class I'm teaching) and then the two helpful (required) writing books for the same class...

Sharpies, notecards...

Another big ol' stack of papers (including) work I am reading for the class I'm taking, MY OWN notes and a story for the THESIS I'm writing...um. Am I forgetting something?

I'm firmly in the "Stage of Denial," which is the first stage in the Five Stages of Grading (based on the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross stage model of coping with grief)...

BUT the grief is good grief (think Charlie Brown) and I loooooove it!

~~J

#657

I dwell in Possibility--
A fairer House than Prose--
More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors -

(Emily Dickinson)

~~J

*Photo taken at the 160+ year-old Georgia "State Lunatic, Idiot, and Epileptic Asylum" in Milledgeville, May 2011*

The Surgeon at 2 A.M.

Over one bed in the ward, a small blue light
Announces a new soul. The bed is blue.
Tonight, for this person, blue is a beautiful color.
The angels of morphia have borne him up.
He floats an inch from the ceiling,
Smelling the dawn drafts.

(Sylvia Plath)

~~J

*Photo taken at the 160+ year-old Georgia "State Lunatic, Idiot, and Epileptic Asylum" in Milledgeville, May 2011*

The Ivy Green

Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!


Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.


The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,
To pleasure his dainty whim:


And the mouldering dust that years have made
Is a merry meal for him.


Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.

(Charles Dickens)

*All photos taken at the 160+ year-old Georgia "State Lunatic, Idiot, and Epileptic Asylum" in Milledgeville, May 2011*

Spring Semester Outtakes (III)

Composing Paper(s) Spot
(The Writing Center)









Sun Setting
(Another late night in the WC)









Antique Shop Typewriter
(Day trip with Abby & Emily)











Awesome Pistachio Shell Craft
(for me, from Matt)

Spring Semester Outtakes (II)

On the way to Washington D.C.
(AWP Conference)










Daily Choices
(Georgetown Cupcake)











The Whitehouse
(Oft not photographed backside)












Vietnam War Memorial

Spring Semester Outtakes (I)

Back bedroom at Andalusia
(folding brochures, with Melissa)










Important Instructions
(Peafowl)











Manly Pointer
(playing coy)










Manly Pointer
(I see you looking!)

Fall Semester Outtakes (III)

Morning view of Auditorium
(on way to Writing Center)










Live Oak Trees
(Front Campus)











Curves Ahead
(Front Campus)













Hanging of the Green(s)
(Front Campus)

Fall Semester Outtakes (II)

Hats on Parade
(Macon, GA)












Fancy Lunch
(still in Macon)












Birthday(s)













& a Baby Shower

Fall Semester Outtakes (I)

Blackbird Coffee
(downtown Milledgeville)

Coffee Mosaic
(Blackbird bathroom)












Special Dinner Guest
(Courtesy of Oliver)












Scrabble Mosaic
(Melissa's Place)

Re-packing

which is at least three times worse than packing and unpacking.


Packing: You take a set amount of "stuff" and move it somewhere else...in my case, it was a "carload" and it was 500 miles.

Unpacking: Removing all of the "stuff" and setting it up to make a live-able space...in my case, it took a few days for me to remove everything from my car and haul it upstairs in the 100+ degree heat (but it happened).

Between unpacking and where I am today (re-packing) I have gained more stuff. Via trips homes and trips to Walmart (and/or Amazon.com).

My original carload of "stuff" seems to have multiplied...overnight? No, in the span of ten lovely months.

Because I am moving into a new place in August, I have to re-pack and store items while I am at home for (50 or so days)...obviously I can't "tote" my probably 2 carloads worth of stuff back and forth again...

Re-Packing: One classmate offered up storage containers. Another classmate offered up storage space. With such wonderful classmates, how can I complain? No complaints. Just a lot of planning.

I've already "made" a few bins worth of "winter" clothes (big laugh, there is no Winter in Georgia) and fancy teaching clothes (not needed yet). Alongside books and papers and more books and papers.

I went through my foodstuffs over the weekend and pulled everything out, placing them in full view. My goal is to save money and eat the remainder of what I've always decided to pass over during the last two semesters.

Example of a good idea gone wrong: Brown rice and a can of "Asian" vegetables (baby corn, bamboo shoots, sprouts, water chestnuts)....NOT delicious at ALL! I put my leftovers in a container I'll throw away.

Any ideas for garbanzo beans, cannellini beans, artichoke hearts, macaroni & cheese, Spanish rice, a jar of basil tomato sauce...???

The beans and rice and sauce as a...soup? I'll let you know what happens there.

I can't pack kitchen paraphernalia yet. I'm staring at a rather empty closet and bathroom. it's so weird to be living in such an empty place. I want to jump into my car and drive away.

The days are SOOOOOOO long.

~~J

The Lonely Writer

Young Woman Reading, Mary Cassatt 1876

I've heard the stories/read about the method: retreats, workshops, cabins in the woods, hotel rooms, unplugging, uninstalling...all the means of self-imposed isolation in attempts to create art.

In fact, I watched a short documentary last night and learned that Van Gogh stayed in an asylum for a year because he was able to paint daily without much interruption (and it was cheaper than staying in a hotel).

Being in a (mostly) empty college town for several weeks is not the same thing--this isolation is not self-imposed, it has been forced upon me.

At least that's my non-writing excuse. Sure, there are notecards with my character names, birth and death years now in existence. Yes, I have a strong idea for the second story in my thesis...BUT...

Why am I NOT writing?

boredom? lack of stimulation? loneliness? no schedule? no deadlines?

A combination of ALL OF THE ABOVE?

Or better yet, do I have no clue as to what I am doing? Am I lacking ideas, motivation, (gulp) talent? (Only "an artist" would say such a thing, I think I'm okay.)

I'll be back in the bluff city soon enough. Maybe the Mississippi River is more responsible for my mystical arts than I realized (Mark Twain would agree).

Then I can "force" myself into isolation--which is completely different than being bored to tears...believe me.

~~J

EDIT: All I can think about now after titling this post is THIS POEM by Anne Sexton...which means you have to go read it too.

Paul Rudd and Cicadas

(and this photo has nothing to do with either, but I took it today and it's pretty)
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(OR) The people have spoken!

At least the people who are lucky enough to stumble onto my blog over the last week or so...

Guests! Visitors! I've put out a virtual Welcome Mat, a place to stomp your feet. Or perhaps you'd prefer a cup of coffee (or iced tea, it is already scorching here in Middle Georgia)?

Actually. I know what YOU WANT (through the search terms you've entered to find this blog):

1) You want to know when the cicadas will be...gone or at least quiet:

"how many more weeks left for the cicadas"
"how many more weeks will cicadas be in tennesee"
"decibel levels of 13 yr periodical cicadas"
"how many more weeks until the cicadas leave nashville"

2) Or anything related to Paul Rudd and/or his not-related-but-should-be doppelganger George Newbern:

"is paul rudd in father of the bride"
"do paul rudd and george newbern look alike"
"paul rudd in father of the bride"
"george newbern country music"

I can tell you that after spending a large amount of time outside over the last couple days the cicada song seems to be gone. As far as Middle Georgia is concerned they were audible for three solid weeks.

Now, Paul Rudd was NOT in Father of the Bride. Paul and George DO look alike. AND I know nothing about George Newbern and country music OTHER than the fact that his Father of the Bride "bride" (Kimberly Williams) is married to country singer, Brad Paisley.

Side Note: One of my best friends and former roommate, looks a lot like Kimberly Williams...(just to keep the doppelganger thing a new twist).
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~~J

Prime Number Infestation

Red eyes. They have red eyes, I tell you. RED EYES!

periodical cicada 'Magicicada septendecim' (plate 7)
"Insects, their way and means of living'' R. E. Snodgrass

Despite the fact the Southern periodical cicada only comes out from the ground every 13 years, I'm lucky enough to experience the prime number infestation first hand in middle Georgia.

I'm pretty sure it was nothing like this in Tennessee thirteen years ago!

The exoskeletons are all over the pathways on campus. I've been hit in the head by at least two times as well. Although they are harmless (non-biting, non-stinging) they are large enough to scare the crap out of you (not literally).

Honestly the worse part is the noise. OH THE NOISE! The males (of course) are so riled up, singing to impress the females sometimes it is all you can hear outside during the day.

I've Googled and researched to my heart's content to find out that the volume level of a few hundred cicadas can reach up to 120 dB. Yes. You read that correctly and here is a little chart to help you out:

•Sound of silence - 0 dB
•A whisper - 15 dB
•Normal conversation - 60 dB
•A lawnmower - 90 dB
•A car horn (toot toot) - 110 dB
•A rock concert or a jet engine - 120 dB
•A gunshot or firecracker - 140 dB

For some reason (didn't get THAT far in my research), they only sing during the day. Thank goodness. In fact, the hottest part of the day is the right time for an unbelievable concert (if you're into cicadas).

How many more weeks until this madness is over? But really, can you imagine only having 6-8 weeks of sunshine and then living the rest of your life in the ground?

Bird food for thought.

~~J

She was a Day Tripper

One way ticket, yeah
It took me so long to find out
and I found out

--The Beatles

What's the best thing to do on a Friday afternoon in a state that's not your own? Take a day trip, of course. So we met in Juliette, GA, where they filmed the 1991 classic, Fried Green Tomatoes...


Based on the novel (with practically the same name) by Fannie Flagg. A novel I have read. I movie I have seen on more than one occasion. In fact, we studied it in a Contemporary American Literature course I took eons ago.

The food was delicious. The town was just as sweet. Friendly people, warm atmosphere. While signing guestbooks in several shops I noticed that fans are still flocking to this tiny town comprised of one street. The movie first hit theaters TWENTY years ago.

I didn't have any barbecue, but I did see where Big George made it. The secret is in the sauce (and hiding in a place no bigger than a flea). There's already been talk of going back soon and revisiting. It's less than an hour away, after all.

~~J

A Few of My Favorite Things:

Woooooooooosh! Moo Cows!

(somewhere along Hwy 441, near Milledgeville, GA)

~~J

Grad School: The Nintendo Edition

Jump! Jump!


As I go barreling (thanks, coffee) toward the end of my first year of graduate school (two classes, one portfolio, and an exam to go)...

Dodge! Dodge!


I can't help but to pause and reflect on all I've accomplished over the last ten months.

Pound a Barrel with a Mallet!


For example:

Helping students in the Writing Center became one of my favorite activities. It was extremely rewarding to watch someone come up with an idea or tell me later how they did on an essay.

I've written an annotated bibliography over a gaggle of composition theory books AND a more than 15-page paper based in said theory.

I created a Creative Writing teaching portfolio, complete with a syllabus, writing exercises, and lesson plan(s).

More of my work has been workshopped and scrutinized by classmates and professors--not a single tear was shed during the process (we'll work on after, later).

Completing 18 hours of graduate level credits makes me eligible to work as a teaching fellow in several states...and I'm only half-nervous about the prospect now...and the more confidence I have, the better--I start teaching Comp I in the Fall.

Stories have been sent out (and almost all rejected), but just knowing that my own work is being read by strangers is thrilling enough to keep me on task.

I went to Washington D.C. for AWP!

Reading literary criticism is getting easier, especially that related to Flannery O'Connor and the South. I'm catching phantom references to her work--and making my own unique observations.

Having an idea for my own creative thesis, a collection of related short stories based on a story I wrote last semester. What? I actually have an idea for my first collection?

It sounds as if I may have this thing figured out....as long as I continue to jump, dodge, and pound the hell out of the obstacles thrown in my way!

SUPER MALLET, activate!

~~J

Oh Suffrage!

Quite poetic, if you stop to think about it:

(Equal Rights! Equal Duties! German election poster from 1919)

And I've been so busy these last two weeks, having survived Startling Figures: A Celebration of the Legacy of Flannery O'Connor, now I'm just trying to finish off the semester with a florish.

Hence the suffrage poster. It's loosely related to attempt at an apologia. Which, in less fancy terms, is an apology to my readers (those who will be reading my thesis, for example) in the form of an explanation as to why I write. Or what I attempt to do within in own work.

Just be confused for now, because I know I am.

~~J

Janet (tries) to Read.

Once upon a time, I started a reading project.

It didn't last.

Nevertheless, I've tried to modify it.

Ironically, the reason things went array, has given me a chance to finish reading an author's complete volume of work.

Thanks, graduate school!

I realize Flannery O'Connor was "only" able to finish two novels and 32 short stories before she died from complications of lupus. But I'm still determined to read all the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald (my original attempt).

EDIT: I have read all of Laura Zigman's novels (that should count for something because they're fabulous).

And I've even added a more contemporary writer on my list: Richard Bausch. The picture only shows nine books/collections--he has twenty. I've received another since this photograph was taken, which means I now have ten.

It is easy to be inspired to read (and write) when you're surrounded by others who do both.

Case in point, last month my MFA program hosted Julie Marie Wade. She won the 2010 Arts & Letters/Susan Atefat Prize in Creative Nonfiction. Not only did she read her winning essay, she also participated in an enlightening Q&A session.

I was lucky enough to spend a decent amount of time with her (dinners, coffee, and ghost hunting). What do writers talk about when they get together? Sometimes writing, learning, reading, teaching...

And I didn't feel like an Über Nerd. In fact, I felt quite the opposite.
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NOW (today) I can say that I've finished her book--Wishbone: A Memoir in Fractures as well as one by Bausch These Extremes. They were both so wonderful! It's just slow-going when you're writing scholarly papers and trying to write your own work as well (excuses, excuses).
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~~J